


Don't Bother with the Teeth

by Rambling_Museums



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: And Aziraphale has none, Angels and Demons, Ciminal Masterminds, Crowley has all the genders, Found Family, Gen, Gender is weird yo, Genderqueer Crowley (Good Omens), Hawaii, I don't surf so it's more like 'Warlock and his intructor do X', Miscommunication, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Not Beta Read, Queer Themes, Sort Of, Spies & Secret Agents, Surfing, Trans Character, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-07-31 06:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20110459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rambling_Museums/pseuds/Rambling_Museums
Summary: Crowley spends some time with Warlock after the kid's 12th birthday in Hawaii. Hawaii Five-0 gets suspicious when the son of an ambassador is seen palling around with a notorious London gangster.





	1. Adam corrects a mistake

**Author's Note:**

> Hey AO3, long time reader, first time poster! I am not a good enough writer (yet) to write the Crowley-is-actually-a-criminal-mastermind story I desperately want so have this instead!

Adam didn’t really know what it meant to be lonely. He always knew that the Youngs loved him and that the Them loved him. He couldn’t really conceive of a childhood without that support. According to Anathema that was a big part of what allowed him to emancipate himself from his father who is no longer in heaven.

As a result he didn’t realize how poorly he treated Warlock on the Last Day before the First Day of the rest of his life. At least not at first. When he was thirteen Adam read a short story about about a lonely prince growing up without his parents love. Instead he relied on his nanny and butler to kiss his scraped knees and tuck him in at night.

At first Adam didn’t get the story so he asked his sister. Sarah, being older and cooler and already in uni, knew everything about everything according to Adam. Well. Not as much as Anathema but this didn’t feel like an Anathema question.

“You know how kings and queens are the only people who can have princes and princesses and a prince or princess is the only person who can become a king or queen, right?” She asked.

“Except Freddy Mercury”

“Yes except Freddy.” Adam smiled knowing Crowley would get a kick out of the reference. “Well because, years and years ago we were ruled by the royal family – not like now when we’ve got them as well as a parliament – well because we needed a king or queen, the old ones _had_ to have kids but that didn’t mean they _wanted_ kids. Not like mum and dad wanted you and me.” 

Adam nodded, if he had to have a kid to rule the country tomorrow he wouldn’t be too happy about it either.

“So sometimes they had the kid and just sort of left them to grow up with servants.”

“But that doesn’t happen anymore, right? The Queen really loves her kids, right?”

“Yes I think the Queen does but not everyone has a happy family. Sometimes its famous people like kings and queens, sometimes its poor people, sometimes its your average family just like ours.”

“Oh.” and Adam had thought. He didn’t spend a lot of time with Warlock when they were babies but he listened to the Plan, he knew the sort of parents the Dowlings were supposed to be. Thaddeus was a macho American man’s man and Harriet a loving but absent mother. She was more concerned with high teas and other things she saw as quintessentially English than raising her child. And Adam knew he did Warlock – his first friend – a terrible disservice by assuming moving to America would be the best gift to give him. 

So he closed his eyes and  _thought_ . 

Somewhere in America, two years earlier, something changed. What had been a scrap of paper torn from the back of a book by an impatient 11 year old brat became a handwritten note. And it had always been a handwritten note.

A short note in his nanny’s precise writing found its way into Warlock’s carry-on bag as his plane flew over Oxfordshire, and the failed end of the world. He didn’t find it for a week or two and took even longer to call the number at the bottom.


	2. Pop Up!

“Warlock! Get back here!” Crowley shouted at the 12 year old making a beeline for the surf shop. He was rather surprised when six months ago his old charge called him up out of the blue. Surprised but pleasantly so. You didn’t spend nearly 11 years looking after a child without growing fond, after all. 

Crowley suspected Adam’s hand but didn’t really mind so he didn’t bother his godson about it. Instead he agreed to visit Warlock during the child’s summer vacation in Hawaii.

Warlock, the little shit, just looked over his shoulder and grinned at his old nanny before redoubling his speed and ploughing into a strange man. Both tumbled to the ground and Warlock let out a shocked cry. Crowley remember when young Warlock would have shed tears but in the year since they parted that had changed.

Crowley picked up his feet to rush over to his charge. He fussed for a few minutes checking for bruises and scrapes. Finding none, the demon cuddled Warlock into his chest and cooed. 

“I’m so sorry about that, sir,” Crowley said, “I told him to be careful but this is his first time here and you know how excitable kids can be.” Crowley wished, just a little bit, that he was Nanny today, humans tended to be kinder to Scottish ladies than they were to ‘southern bastards’ as Shadwell once described him. 

“It’s quite alright, mister...”

“Crowley.”

“Mr. Crowley.” the other man said as he got up and dusted sand off his pants, “I’m Chin.” 

“And I’m just Crowley, this is Warlock.” Crowley helped Warlock back to his feet, tweaked the child’s noes, and got up himself. 

“Warlock? that’s a unique name.” Chin commented.

“Just say it’s weird. The nuns convinced my mum to name me while she was exhausted from labour.” Warlock kicked at the sand and refused to look at either man - or man shaped beings.

“Warlock!” Crowley admonished, “I did not teach you to speak so ill of your mother, did I?”

“No.”

“And who, exactly, has been calling you weird young man?”

Warlock mumbled into his collar and kicked at the sand in his best effort to avoid Crowley’s searching gaze. Crowley harumphed, “we are not done talking about this young man.”

Crowley got Warlock sorted out with a surf instructor but couldn’t quite shake Chin. Chin was tall and dark and handsome, in a square-jawed, outdoorsy way. His dark island skin disguised a tan but Crowley knew the type. His own skin, Scottish pale, had already started to darken in the Hawaiian sun. 

Crowley didn’t know what the American wanted. Chin wasn’t bad looking, about Aziraphale’s height with dark eyes to match his skin. His black hair was cropped short and sort of stylish. Not like Crowley’s own but good enough. Chin wore a nice quality pare of jeans that he hadn’t cared for. That tear by his knee was not a design feature. His shirt by comparison was a beautiful cotton print. If it existed (or didn’t exist) with a darker colour scheme Crowley would find it and wear it himself. Maybe. 

Crowley was a little concerned that the man was too interested in Warlock. So he squinted behind his dark sunglasses and did something ineffable with his eyes to look at Chin’s soul. Or aura. Or whatever. Seeing humans that way wasn’t the same as seeing occult or ethereal beings. Crowley would, if he made the effort, be able to identify any of his brethren based on things invisible to humans, ineffable to humans. Identifying humans, on the other hand, was harder. If the human thought that they were in the right, their soul would reflect that belief.

Crowley didn’t know what Chin wanted with Warlock but, whatever it was, Chin didn’t think it was amoral or immoral or wrong. So his soul or aura or whatever didn’t reflect an immoral person. It was frustrating. Crowley cleared his vision and turned just in time to see Warlock ‘pop up’ on his surf board. 

“Good,” his instructor, a young woman in a two-piece swimsuit, said, “now do that again 20 times and we can see about getting you in the water.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Cute kid.” Chin said, “I couldn’t help but notice you don’t have the same accent.”

“No I don’t suppose we do. ‘course Warlock’s got a bit of Scottish and a bit of West Country but his mum insisted he speak like a proper American even though they lived in London.” Crowley allowed.

“You’re not Scottish either.”

“Am I not?” Crowley asked feinting shock, “Tell me, Chin, do you know what Received Pronunciation is?” He bit his tongue so he wouldn’t hiss, “Thought not.”Crowley watched as the instructor repositioned Warlock’s right foot. Crowley and Chin had gravitated slightly away from the congestion surrounding the surf school when Warlock and his instructor made their way into the water. The demon watched like a hawk as the boy noes-dived into the water. Wave after wave knocked him off his borrowed board. Finally, convinced that the instructor was competent enough to keep Warlock from drowning, Crowley allowed Chin to steer them towards the shade of a palm tree by the boardwalk.

Crowley was, as a snake, a lover of the sun. Unfortunately his white human corporation was prone to burning. He thought it was a cruel joke Dagon made when she issued his body. “What brings you two to our island?” Chin asked.

“Promised the boy I’d visit for his birthday.” Crowley said. His shoulder raised in a nonchalant shrug. “I honestly thought he’d pick Rome or something a bit more European for his vacation. Apparently his dad had a vital meeting in Honolulu that he just couldn’t miss.” He let a little bit of disgust creep into his tone at the idea of doing work. Or maybe the idea of Thaddeus Dowling. Crowley had invited Aziraphale but the angel handled the sun worse than Crowley. _And besides_, he’d said, _I have these new folios to look after_. Its not as if Warlock knew him as anything other than a gardener. Crowley ultimately agreed: Brother Francis did not fit in in Hawaii. Then again, brother Francis didn’t really fit in anywhere.

“You’re not his dad?”

“No.”

“Not an uncle either, neither Harriet or Thaddeus have close English relatives.”

“Who says I’m English? Seriously, Chin, you need to figure out what Received Pronunciation is.”

Chin continued talking half to himself as if he forgot Crowley was there at all, “The only staff who had much to do with Warlock were the nanny and the gardener. We’ve got photos of Francis...” He trailed off as he crowded Crowley towards their shade tree’s trunk. Crowley eyed Chin from behind his glasses. Maybe his soul sense or whatever was rusty.

“Who are you?”

“We are just curious about how the son of an American diplomat ended up in the care of the Infamous Anthony J. Crowley.” Crowley jumped as a new man appeared out of fucking nowhere on his other side. He was probably hiding up the tree.

“Danny.” The man offered his hand for Crowley to shake.

“Danny, pleasure I’m sure.” Crowley grasped his fingertips quickly in a handshake that had gone out of fashion at least two hundred years ago. “Chin here was just about to tell me who you are and what you want with my ward.”

“What are you talkin’ about? You know who we are, I’m Danny, he’s Chin, you are a criminal from a well known and unwelcome crime family palling around Honolulu with the son of an American Diplomat.” Danny slung his arm around Crowley’s neck and leaned in close, “Lets chat. I don’t like making a scene in public but I will.”

“Since when do you not like making a scene?” Chin’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he crowded in on Crowley’s left.

Crowley attempted to shrug Danny off while he raised a deceptively calm eyebrow above the edge of his sunglasses, “Do you really expect me to leave Warlock on his own in a strange state in a country he’s been in for less than a year?”

“My cousin will take good care of Warlock until this gets sorted out.” Chin nodded to the boy and his instructor, then waved. The instructor waved back with a grin. Yup. Definitely something wrong with Crowley’s ability to see human souls or auras or whatever.

He hissed his annoyance, “If there is a single mark on that boy when I get him back there will be hell to pay.” The men didn’t notice the palm fronds above their heads shivered against the wind at Crowley’s tone. “Listen, Danny, as cute as you are in your tie and dress shoes, it is far too hot on this island to cuddle. Besides, you might upset Warlock into investigating if you keep up the charade.” Crowley managed to extract himself from the blond thug’s arm but not without the warning that both his kidnappers were armed and that another friend had yet another gun trained on him.

Americans.


	4. In which pizza is not had by all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about timelines: I haven't really watched H50 post-Chin and Kono leaving. That said I am aware of the story line if not the characters. Therefore Chin and Kono and the Pizza Place exist in the same time.

Crowley didn’t know what, exactly, he’d done to piss off a Hawaiian crime syndicate. Yes, the demon had ties to various criminal organizations and yes, he didn’t always pay as much attention to those organizations as he probably should, but it was all small time London stuff. A drug shipment here, a gentrification project there, nothing hug. Crowley liked working subtly. Most of the members of his own crime family didn't even know he existed for somebody's sake.

There was that whole thing with the WWII rations but given he didn't outwardly look old enough for that crime, Crowley doubted the Americans were bothered about that. Humans tended to balk at the idea of immortality. Their fiction was full of it but they never quite managed to wrap their heads around the truth of it all.

“So, fellas, what is all this about?” the three ended up in a construction zone. Well, a renovation zone. Well, what looked like a future pizza parlour. It must have been an expensive chunk of land considering it only took 7 minutes to walk there from the beach. Crowley glanced around, good front really, restaurants were known for being meeting places, having transient or temporary staff, having slightly screwy taxes due to the nature of food spoilage and tipping. Crowley got why so many mobsters used restaurants as front businesses. He even tried his hands at it in the fifties but it took far too much mental energy for a demon who often slept for days. The work was too demanding for a demon who often had to spend weeks away for temptations. And he didn't particularly care about food.

But Italian? That was entirely too cliched.

“Steve’s on his way.” Danny said instead of answering Crowley’s very reasonable question.

“And who is Steve, exactly?”

Chin and Danny exchanged looks as if Crowley should know who Steve was. It wasn't his fault he didn't know the local criminals! He barely paid attention to who was in charge on the continent! Paying attention to Hawaii would be as absurd as paying attention to the criminals in New Zealand.

"Funny." Danny didn't look amused, "Steve said you were smarter than this."

Crowley sputtered, "Oh - well - righn," He raised a pointing finger at Danny's chest, "well you can tell Steve that he's an idiot for assuming I'd know someone from this bright and shining hell on earth."

"Oh Danny, he's just like you." Chin said with a hearty laugh. Danny and Crowley shared a disgusted glance before realizing and looking away from each other.

"Anyway." Danny attempted to change the subject. The door swung open behind Crowley but he didn’t turn to look. As with demons, an awful lot of criminal etiquette was the opposite of the norm. Swinging around to see who just walked in would imply that Crowley didn’t trust his hosts. He didn’t, and they didn’t expect him to but to be so obvious about it would only invite trouble.

“Anthony J. Crowley as I live and breath,” the newcomer declared, “when Chin flagged you as a criminal I wasn’t sure what to believe. But I guess it must be true.”

“You!” Crowley pointed, “No – no don’t tell me. Steve, obviously but Steve What? I dunno. Something Scottish right? Steven Mc-Whoever You Are. What are you doing here running around with this lot?” he thumbed toward Chin and Danny.

“Steven,” Danny said, “care to share with the class?”

“I met this recalcitrant prankster ages ago when I was in the UK for work.”

“Prankster?” Crowley gasped indignant, “I’ll have you know I work hard. Or I did. I’m retired.” If Crowley's memory served, and it normally did for things more important than names, Steve was not a criminal. He was more in line with spies. Not nearly as sneaky as proper spies though. Military of some sort. Neither Danny nor Chin had military regulation haircuts though so whatever this is, it wasn't military. Police, perhaps? That did work, Crowley knew enough shady authority figures through the eons that these guys' shifty kidnapping didn't even surprise him. "Look I don't know what all this is about but if we could just," he gesticulated with his hand, "get on with this? I want to be there when Warlock is done. I don't trust your cousin."


	5. Don't bother with the Teeth

“Sit, sit, we need to talk.” Steve ushered Crowley, Chin, and Danny to one of the few installed booths. Crowley, against his expressed wishes, ended up on the inside. The high backs and solid body of Chin would have been enough to keep most humans in their seat. Crowley knew he could slither away if necessary though.

“So how does one retire from being Crowley?” Chin asked.

“What kind of question is that? Its my name, not a job title.”

“What are you then, Anthony J. Crowley the third or something?” Danny squinted at Crowley.

"No.”

“Why are there reports of an A Crowley, or an AJ Crowley doing crimes in London for more than 100 years?”

“I’m immortal.”

“Oh Ha Ha. A comedian.”

“Never mind that. Why are we here? I want to get back to Warlock before he notices I’m gone if I can help it.”

“Well Crowley,” Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, “That is exactly why we are here. How does a member of London’s organized crime end up babysitting for the Dowling family?”

Crowley leaned back in his seat, away from Steve, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m his nanny. Or I was before he got too old for nannies.”

“Records indicate that the Dowling’s nanny was a Mrs. Ashtoreth.”

“Yes.”

“Well, sorry for saying this bluntly, AJ, but you don’t look much like a Mrs. Ashtoreth at the moment.”

“No, I don’t and I’m not her at the moment, obviously. As if she’d ever be caught dead in skinny jeans or a vee-neck shirt.” he scoffed at Danny. Nanny Ashtoreth had a very different style to AJ Crowley, after all.

“What’s your business in Hawaii, Crowley.” Steve growled, “Don’t forget: I know you. I know the sort of ‘fun’ you get up to. Is there going to be a string of accidents starting at the door to your hotel room and radiating to the edges of my island?”

“Your island?” Crowley looked pointedly towards Chin then back to Steve. “You make it sound like I’m some sort of serial killer or something.” From the look on Chin and Danny’s face, that is exactly what they thought. Steve, though, Steve was far too practical for that. Crowley clicked his tongue, “seriously? I really am here just to have fun with Warlock. I retired a year ago. Honest, hand on heart.” Crowley placed his left hand where his ornamental heart thumped under his decorative breastbone.

“You expect me to believe that you retired?” Steve asked. He laced his words with liberal disbelief and scorn.

“You can believe whatever you like, love.” Crowley grinned toothily as Danny sputtered. American ideas about gender, their roles, and their interactions were always easy to play with. It was interesting, fascinating, surprising really that neither Chin nor Steve so much as blinked.

“Convince me you retired.”

“How? Shall I tell you I moved out of London to a little village in the South Downs? Most days are spent wandering the sea shore? My garden is doing wonderfully? The book-nook is finally finished and we can both use it, if we don't mind cuddling?” He snaked around the truth ensuring that the South Downs was the last place Steve and his palls would come looking.

“Yeah that’s fair enough.” Steve misunderstood exactly the way Crowley wanted him to. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. There is a warrant out for your arrest.

“What-but? No there isn’t! There – what for?”

“Seems like when you were here in the seventies you crashed a car into a tree and fled the scene.”

“Are you saying I look old?”

“You said yourself: you’re immortal.” Steve said and motioned for the party to get up.

“You’re just doing this to piss me off, aren’t you?” Crowley wiggled off the bench to find himself surrounded on three sides by cops with a table at his back. It wasn’t far. Crowley actually helped Steve when they ran into each other in London. Sure the empty office building they used as a meeting point got a little bit exploded but that was mostly Steve’s fault anyway. He wanted to blow the place up, Crowley just provided the fertilizer.

“Book ‘em Danno.”

Crowley made a cut off grunting noise as Danny grabbed for his wrists, “Wait – no y-oh you don’t want to do that, mate.” Crowley twisted as much as he could to get away from the suddenly rather grabby hands of his companions, “ju-just let me make a call. Okay? Let me call my partner.”

“Alright, but speaker.” Steve said after mulling it over.

Crowley pulled his sleek, modern, expensive, and half useless smartphone out of his tight jean pocket and dialed the familiar number for A.Z. Fell & Co. He hadn’t yet managed to convince Aziraphale to get a mobile of his own. The angel still made regular pilgrimages to his shop, he claimed it was to be open to the public but Crowley suspected it was just so he could read without the snake bothering him. “Angel, this is important. Pick up the phone.” Crowley growled down the line. Steve motioned for him to switch it to speaker. “Fine be that way.”After the tenth ring Crowley closed his eyes and expected an ansafone machine to pick up the line. He also expected the message to sound like Aziraphale saying _you have reached A.Z Fell & Co. Unfortunately we cannot come to the phone right now please leave a concise message and we will get back to you when we can_. He knew the machine would be gone in a few days but Aziraphale always checked his messages when Crowley bothered to miracle an ansafone.

“Angel, I’ve gotten into a spot of bother over here. Nothing I can’t handle but can you check on Warlock? Don’t-don’t bother with the teeth.” He angrily jabbed at the disconnect button and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

He barely resisted throwing the stupid thing at the wall.

Crowley hissed as Danny successfully snapped handcuffs around his wrists. At least his arms were in front of his body. He wasn’t sure his shoulders could handle them locked behind his back. Even still he tugged subtly on the bonds when he thought no one was watching.


	6. As if Warlock would care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed it in the notes: I know nothing about surfing. It's on my list and I have the chance to learn this summer/fall but work is keeping me too busy right now. 
> 
> This is also the last fully planned out chapter, I know where I want this to go but it might take longer to get to the end than it did to get to this point.

Warlock and Kono tumbled onto the sand next to their boards with twin grins. Warlock was mostly exhausted but also incredibly proud of himself. He'd managed to stay up for nearly a minute at the end! Kono, by comparison, was still feeling fresh and if everything got sorted out before too long she'd happily head back out into the waves. She glanced around looking for any sign of her team but they were no where to be found. They must have taken Crowley to the palace or something. She'd have to check her phone when she and Warlock got back to the school. 

"A few more days on the board and it'll be like you've been surfing your whole life." Kono praised. Her job was to keep the kid occupied while the others interviewed that Crowley character. It had been years since she instructed anyone and, truth be told, Warlock was average at best for his first time. It didn't hurt to be encouraging though.

“Thanks, Kono,” Warlock said with a heavy sigh, “but I don’t think I’ll get another chance. Dad said I had to go to some party with him or something tomorrow, then we leave.” 

“That wasn’t your dad who dropped you off was it?” Kono asked. She knew but wanted to hear Warlock say it. There was a chance she could figure out how a man like that ended up taking a boy like Warlock to a surf school. 

“No that was Crowley.” At the mention of the criminal Warlock’s despondent expression vanished, “I was so happy when Crowley said they could visit me! I didn’t really expect it – not after they left so suddenly after my 11th birthday.”

“He left?” He had been a part of the child's life before? And judging by Warlock's joyful expression a big, important part. 

“Yeah, turns out that in the UK the traditional time to fire a nanny is just before the 11th birthday.” Warlock shrugged. He was a bit suspicious of that story but his mum told him that was why Nanny left.

Kono for her part was attempting to keep the shock off her face. Steve told her a little bit about AJ Crowley’s background because she would have to interact with the man away from back up. She had been warned to do her best to not engage at all. The school, run by an old friend of Kono's, agreed to allow Five-0 to run their operation. The shop's regular receptionist. Steve was taking no chances on the Englishman noticing any sort of special treatment. 

In the short time that Steve knew Crowley in London the man blew up a building, set fire to a bridge, exposed US military assets, and consistently stole  all the pennies from the ‘need a penny, take a penny’ platters in shops. 

“_Somehow, despite that,” Steve had said, “AJ really came through for us. We wouldn’t have tracked down the rouge IRA militants without his help. Of course it would have been better if they survived to stand trial.” Steve shrugged as if to point out silently that not all of Five-0s suspects survived to trial either. _

Steve's shock was heavy and obvious when, after a little digging, Crowley's passport photo turned up a series of nuisance warrants from the London area and a few impossible reports with grainy black and white photos going back as far as the 1860s. If it weren't for Crowley's distinctive snake brand by his left temple the team would have dismissed it as a filtering error. Every single available report made note of it. 

Eventually the team concluded that 'Crowley' must be a family of criminals. The current one, the one Steve knew, was about 45-50 (reports varied) and was recently cited in London for parking on a double yellow. The most recent one to visit Hawaii must have been his father or uncle or something in 73.

“It must have been nice, having a nanny. All I ever had were the aunties and my cousins!” Kono had very fond memories of growing up with her extended family and all the aunties and uncles in her neighbourhood. She did wonder in the distant, romantic part of her mind what it would have been like to grow up like Warlock must have. A stranger, an American in England, an only child. That, however, was the wrong thing to say.

“I guess. Nanny was alright and all but she was a bit strange. Constantly telling me that the world would be crushed under my heel when I grew up. And Brother Francis was almost as bad: telling me to love and respect everything – even garden slugs!” He looked out to the surf, “I guess one thing he said was really important today: The ocean isn’t shark infested, they live there we are the ones just visiting.” He looked Kono in the eye for the first time since they left the water, "It is important to be a good house guest."

“Who was Brother Francis?”

“The gardener.”

Kono blinked, “why were you talking about sharks?”

“We had a seaside holiday when I was 7. I was scared to go swimming and knew Francis would handle it better than nanny. She didn’t approve of being scared.” Kono chewed on her lip before hopping up to her feet.

“Come on kid, lets get these boards back to the surf school.” She pulled Warlock up and the grabbed their boards. Warlock struggled a bit under it’s weight and size but was determined to carry it himself. Impossibly, the school was busier now than it had been when they set out. 

* * *

T hey fought their way to the board racks and Kono helped Warlock set his borrowed board into its brace. She tucked hers in behind  with the other staffs’ boards. Warlock grabbed his shirt  from a line of coat hooks populated with shirts and pants with sandals placed neatly below. He pulled it over his head happy for the comfort of being covered up. He wasn’t a prude or anything but occasionally the idea of people looking at him wigged the preteen out. The damp, chilly weather and clothes that went with it was one thing he missed most - or nearly most - from his life in England.  


He carried the shoes though: Warlock hadn’t gotten used to the sensation of sand in shoes. Not even shoes designed for that very event. 

Warlock wasn’t sure what to do. He hadn’t seen Crowley once since he and Kono got back to land. They hadn’t set up an alternate meeting place. Warlock didn’t have any money on him. Because he was supposed to spend the day with Crowley, his mum hadn’t assigned any bodyguards. 

Warlock scratched id ly at the sand stuck to the back of his knee.

He didn’t want to leave the surf school – it was the only location he knew that Crowley knew. Still there were about ten times too many people in the school. Warlock had never had too many friends, his private schools had very small classes and frowned on crowds of noisy children.

The only time Warlock was surrounded by people like this were for his father’s functions. Even his own birthday parties became political statements.  He breathed deeply in through his noes and out through his mouth the way brother Francis taught him when the gardener found him freaking out after his sixth birthday.  _‘Its alright, young Warlock,’_ he’d said,  _‘I don’t much like crowds either. Some day, you will lead the world into a peaceful future where busy birthdays are a thing of the past_ .’

Kono came back to him wrapped in a skirt with a tank top over her bathing suit, “Come on Warlock, your guardian left some cash for a treat at the desk. He told my boss that something came up and he’d be back as soon as possible.”

Warlock pouted but followed Kono outside. It was a relief to be out of the school even if it hurt his heart to hear that Crowley left. He didn’t quite know why he was surprised though, everyone left. Even Crowley left. Sure he came back and after a short explanation about how Nanny wasn’t always Nanny but sometimes called AJ Crowley instead, everything went back to some level of normal, but she – he – they still left. 

Still left Warlock alone in a different country.

As if Warlock would care about something as stupid as gender. It was all made up anyway. Warlock didn’t know why people were so fussed about it. 

Kono bypassed three shave ice stands before leading Warlock  to one with the face of a large, happy man as the logo. Warlock was slightly surprised to see that man  in the art  behind the counter as he and Kono joined the line.


	7. Do you get off on the power play

After the three secured Crowley in the back of the car they held an impromptu meeting about the situation.

“Chin I want you go go back up Kono. Crowley is a slippery character, I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought some of his network here. Especially with that call to ‘Angel’.” Steve instructed.

“Do you know who that is?” Chin asked. Any intel would make Chin’s job a bit easier.

“No. Crowley never mentioned anyone by that name – or nickname – last time we ran into each other. We didn’t really spend that much time together though. 

“One of the MI7 contacts knew him and brought him in. Crowley mostly dealt with them.” Steve shrugged.

“’S that why he didn’t remember your name, babe?”

“Just get in the car Danno.”

Chin laughed as he walked calmly back to the beach. By now Kono and Warlock’s lesson should be done. Chin thought about the available records on the various 'AJ Crowleys' he'd seen. Military Intelligence, no matter the branch, meant spooks. Proper spies. Chin never had to deal with spies, and doubted that it was at all like James Bond but he was perturbed by the idea of relying on a man - or men - like Crowley.   


And by the idea that Steve willingly worked with such a dangerous man. 

* * *

Danny preferred not to bicker with Steve when they had a guest in the car and so he kept his mouth shut as the marine sped away from their future restaurant. Crowley, however, had no such reservations.

“Do you honestly believe that a warrant from the seventies will actually work? How old do I look?” 

“Call up your dad, get him to confess and we’ll let you go.” Steve countered. He knew that they didn’t have enough to hold Crowley but the governor was concerned which meant Five-0 had to do some politicing. 

Thaddeus Dowling was not a popular figure in American politics – a little too brash and far too opinionated but the president liked him. They were in university together. Steve supposed that bonded some people. 

The governor was just as surprised as Five-0 when she heard that the Dowlings’ guest, an old family friend according to Harriet, was a criminal. She had been even more surprised when Steve reported his own involvement with AJ Crowley. Her instructions had been clear: separate Crowley from the family and find out what he had in mind for their island. Deal with things from there.  


“I haven’t got one of those. At least, not the way you think of them.” Crowley said. He stared out the window. Or at least, Danny assumed he stared. It was nearly impossible to tell with his glasses. Crowley's head pointed toward the window in any event.  


“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny assumed it meant that the Crowley clan had an abusive streak long enough to create criminals with pyrotechnic hobbies. 

“Whatever you’d like it to.” Crowley shot Danny a crooked smile, “It means what it means and no matter what I say, you’ll assume its something else.” 

Steve parked the car in the Five-0 designated lot, the one with a service elevator right to the interrogation room and yanked Crowley out of the back seat.

“Oww! No need to be so rough with me Steve.” He hissed, “What have I done to piss you off so much?” 

“You’re obfuscating.”

“Ob- I’m obfuscating? Really, Steven, that’s what you’re going for.” Crowley shook himself out of Steve’s grip but followed Danny calmly enough to the elevator. The criminal kept as much distance between himself and Danny and Steve as he could in the elevator car though, said he felt crowded. 

“You live in London.”

“No, I retired.”

“To the South Downs.”

“To the South Downs.”

“Whatever,” Danny cut in, “You did live in London,” he said it as if he didn’t believe that Crowley moved, “how, exactly, do crowds bother you?” The elevator dinged and the three piled out. Steve steered Crowley to the lone seat in the centre of the blue room. He quickly switched Crowley’s cuffs, clicking him into the cuffs built into the side of the uncomfortable chair, locking him in place. 

“Is this really necessary?” Crowley asked again, “Or do you get off on the power play?”

“You know,” Steve said without missing a beat, “Its a little of both.” 

Danny, used to playing ‘good cop’ in these situations, grumbled in the back of his throat, “I tried to convince him that a normal interrogation room would be enough for our needs but, well, once a marine, always a marine.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Soldiers,” Crowley said with a conspiratorial nod to Danny, “I never much liked the type. Far too many soldiers who think they now more than they actually do.” 

“Is that right? I have known some spectacularly stupid criminals in my day.”

“Aye, they can be idiots too. Its the soldiers that worry me though, Steven. They are stupid but think they are right. Criminals are as stupid but know they are wrong.” Crowley countered.

“You, for example, believe I am the same man that... what was it? Crashed a car here in the seventies? Anyway, you think I’m that person – or believe that sharing a name with that person gives you the rights to chain me to a chair. A criminal who thought I wronged them somehow might still chain me up, but they’d know that it was wrong to do so.”

“Alright, alright.” Steve cut him off. Danny was a bit surprised, Steve looked devastated in the subtle way of his by what Crowley insinuated. As if moral wrong-doings normally weighed heavy on Commander McGarrett, “Enough of that AJ. I’d forgotten how perceptive you can be.” Crowley made a noise of protest at the nickname. 

“Anyway, we need to do some in-take information. Update the files, you know how it is.”

“Paperwork.” Crowley nodded with a resigned sigh, “What do you need?”

"Photographs. Glasses off."


	8. Aziraphale packed a small bag

Aziraphale gently tapped the button on the bottom of his tablet. Outside the window rain dripped lazily from the branches of Crowley's fruit trees. The grey sky had a slight pearlescent hue as the sun sunk slowly towards the horizon.

These newfangled ‘e-books’ were truly fascinating; Aziraphale doubted they would replace the written work anytime soon but they certainly were a novelty – pardon the pun! The only true drawback Aziraphale could think of was the need to charge the batteries. There were no plugs in the book nook Crowley built into Aziraphale's library - really a guest bedroom with a lovely south facing window. The nearest one was the small computer desk Crowley pretended to use by the east facing library window.

Being aware of the batteries ensured that his tea was still warm when he drank it. Aziraphale hummed happily as he sipped his lady gray.

Young Newton had gifted him the e-book reader and explained patiently how to use it. Aziraphale even began venturing online to amateur authors’ publication pages. He found some truly inspiring writing there. It was as if the amateur authors all pulled characters form a familiar canon – one unknown to Aziraphale.

Unknown at least until he recognized character names and traits from some of his favourite Victor Hugo dramas. It was fascinating what humans came up with: using somebody’s writing as a natural beginning for a new, original story was a brilliant way to develop writing skills. According to young Anathema, some of these amateur authors went on to publish their own works too! Inspiring.

Aziraphale read on.

* * *

The little cottage he and Crowley retired to was quiet without the snake demon. Quiet and still. Very much like the bookshop Aziraphale left behind in London. Aziraphale loved Crowley with all his being but, having lived alone for most of six thousand years, the chaotic patterns of his partner were difficult to adjust to. Aziraphale was often tempted to send the demon out to reek havoc - purely for the angel's peace of mind.

While Crowley visited Warlock in America Aziraphale was determined to spend his time getting to know the natural rhythms of the cottage. Even with the quiet stillness he felt the undeniable tug of his familiar shop. In the next few days he would have to take the train in to check on things. Part of Aziraphale dreaded the idea of returning to the bustle of the capital. The rest of him knew there were things that needed taking care of.

The screen of his tablet blinked out. Aziraphale sighed, got up, and plugged the tablet in at Crowley’s desk. Newton cautioned Aziraphale against using the tablet while it charged.

Aziraphale packed himself a small bag for a day’s stay in London and headed towards the door.


	9. As if I could convince Angel to do anything like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. I got hit by a killer headache yesterday and the day before that I worked for about 9 hours without a break or a proper meal (the meal bit was my fault).

“Photographs. Glasses off.” Steve reached towards Crowley’s eyes confident he’d see behind the dark round sunglasses, sure he would be the first person in law enforcement to properly document the criminal’s eye colour. According to Danny it was very odd that there wasn’t already a record of his eye colour. Steve speculated that Crowley’s eyes were blue but Kono thought they’d be green. Danny thought they were both crazy for betting and Chin said he didn’t care about some Brit’s eye colour.

  
A ringing finger click accompanied the hand that slaps Steve away from Crowley’s face, “Stop that.” Crowley commands. He ducked his head down and behind his newly freed left hand to protect his glasses from further assault. His knee rose up to protect his middle, snakeskin shoe pointed upward as if to strike out at anyone foolish enough to get too close.

  
“How did you-?” Steve quickstepped away from Crowley, out of range of slapping hands or jabbing toes. He watched Crowley suspiciously and assessed the damage to the cuff.

There was no damage.

The cuff hung, snapped closed around empty air, from its anchor point on the chair. The right hand cuff still gripped Crowley’s wrist. Steve watched as Crowley stretched out his freed fingers quiet pops filled the otherwise silent interrogation room.

Still with his head down Crowley stuttered and sputtered for a moment, “Just – just don’t take the glasses, we can have a nice chat. How’s that sound? Civilized, no?

“You have questions! I know you have questions. I still remember the paperwork that goes with this sort of questioning.” Crowley settled again. Not yet the loose sprawl from before Steve reached for his glasses but both feet were on the ground and his freed hand turned from shield to emphatic device. He mimed writing and looked hopefully between Steve and Danny.

“Did you dislocate your thumb?” Danny asked.

“What?” Crowley looked at his hand, then back at Danny, “Sure, whatever, look it doesn’t matter. Not like you even have a camera out to do the visual documentations anyway.”

Steve watched Crowley speculatively. Danny thought he recognized the look. It wasn’t a good look, really. It was the look Steve got when he found something interesting. The last thing Steve found interesting was a set of matching grenades.

Not a good look.

* * *

“Yeah, Okay.” Steve nods. He hadn’t stepped close enough to Crowley to try again, his arms were crossed tightly against his chest. As Crowley finally relaxed as much as his restrained right hand would let him Steve made a slow circuit around the criminal. He nodded to Danny from behind Crowley’s back. They realized years ago that Danny was much better at the bureaucratic aspects of police work.

“Alright then.” Danny walked to the recording equipment built into the wall by the door. There was a constant video recording in the room but they had to manually start the audio records. He fiddled with the settings for a moment ensuring the interview would be properly filed on the database before turning back to Crowley.

“For the record, this is an official interview with Anthony J Crowley attended by Detective Daniel Williams and Commander Steve McGarrett. Please state your name for the record.”

“Crowley.”

“Full name, AJ.” Steve growled. The criminal's shoulders raised at the noise but he didn't turn to look at Steve.

“Why? You already know it. He’s already said it for the record.” He gestured to Danny with his chin.

“Just do it please, then we can move on.”

“For you, Danny, anything.” Crowley grinned toothily,

“Anthony J Crowley.”

“What’s the ‘J’ stand for.”

“Nothing. I don’t have a middle name but Anthony Crowley didn’t have the right cadence.”

“The right... the right cadence?”

“Yes. You know when your mother is especially cross with you and she calls you by your full name. That sort of thing. The more syllables the better.”

“Anyway!” Danny said. He read off the date and time for the record as well before getting into the meat of the interview. Any question about why Crowley was visiting Honolulu were met with the ardent claim that he was there only for Warlock to make up for missing his birthday and if he’d known that Five-0 existed he would have rethought his promised visit.

“Who did you call from the restaurant?” Danny eventually asked.

“You mean that illegal kidnapping you lot pulled?” Danny bristled at the accusation. No matter how accurate it was these days Danny still thought of himself as a good cop above the corruption that was so common among his fellows. “Angel. I called A Z Fell a used book dealer in London.”

“And this used book dealer will be able to check in on Warlock, will he?”

“If he bothers to check his messages.” Crowley scratched at the brand on his cheek. Danny frowned.

“So this Angel Fell guy’s in Hawaii?” Steve asked. He had been keeping quiet. Steve liked the way that Danny managed to get to the crux of the issue, no matter the issue, in interrogation. Steve did much better with violent criminals and terrorist types.

Crowley was far from a peaceful citizen but Steve struggled to think of a single death Crowley caused. That put him firmly in Danny’s domain. If the Fell guy was in Honolulu, though, they had to warn Kono and Chin. Steve didn't believe the line about him being a book dealer for a second.

“Don’t – you know what, I don’t care what you call him.” Crowley sighed, “If he was in Hawaii, what possible reason would I have for calling his shop in Soho?”

“Answering machine messages can be put on any phone.” Danny counters. Crowley sputters.

“Wha-oh-nyeh” he scrunched up his noes and rattled his right hand’s cuff, “As if I could convince Angel to do anything like that. He is-” he huffed at a loss for adjectives. Crowley glanced at his watch, an obnoxiously expensive time piece he bought in the 90s. The battery died before ‘99 but Crowley never bothered to replace it. It still kept perfect time. He didn’t even need to adjust it for time zones manually.

“It has been fun, catching up Steven, but I really must insist. Warlock has been with your teammate’s cousin for long enough. The child and I have plans for the rest of the day.” he put a subtle emphasis on plans (those plans were to get Warlock’s nails done to piss off his dad, but Steve and Danny had no need to know that).

“I know, I know, you’ve made me into a villain in your minds. And the Almighty knows I have been that in the past, but, look, honestly. I’m retired.

“Beyond that, you and I all know that there is no way the whole ‘crashed a car in ‘73’ is going to hold up.”

“We never told you the year.”


	10. Warlock was mostly hungry

Chin waved at the familiar faces he saw on his stroll back to the beach.  He wasn’t too concerned about time and rushing about would just get him noticed. Instead he stopped and spoke to people he knew, assuring them that Five-0 didn’t think there was any danger lurking about that day. He let them decide if he was being honest. 

It was a beautiful day in Honolulu. The bright sun kissed everything and the humidity was that perfect middling zone that made breathing easier but didn’t plaster  clothing to damp bodies.  Even  Kilauea was being kind and the vog report was at a record low for the month.  A light breeze tugged at Chin’s hair and shirt sleeves, not enough to cool him off but enough to rustle the palm fronds that lined the street. 

Chin paused as he stepped around the last building to take in the beautiful sight of the beach and ocean. Surfers populated the waves close to shore and farther out sailboats, fishing boats, and pleasure boats dotted the deeper waters. Some people, when presented with a view like that complain about the people wishing instead for solitude. Chin, however, didn’t think Hawaii would be the same without the people –  e ven the haoles. Provided the people were respectful of Hawaii, her people, her culture, and her temper, Chin was fine with them being there. 

Chin breathed deep the saltwater air and strolled down the boardwalk. It was nearly noon now, long lines trailed away from vendors of coffee, malasadas, tacos, and poke.  He worried a little bit about distracting Warlock for very much longer. 

B efore too long the child would grow suspicious. He was the son of an important political figure, he grew up with Crowley in his life, he was in a strange place with strangers. Chin would be unsurprised to discover Kono frantically searching for the child.

* * *

Warlock, however, wasn’t that concerned. Sure as time ticked by he was a bit worried about Crowley (not  for  himself, ob viously, Nanny and brother Francis made sure he could look after himself!). His hair dried out and a n itchy salty crust formed under his tee-shirt.  He and Kono had been chatting about school. Warlock complained that his American classes were so far behind on maths but he felt like an idiot in Spanish class. Back in London his second language classes were Latin and it was just similar enough to Spanish to throw everything off. Why did he have to learn Spanish anyway? He already spoke Welsh. 

No, Warlock was mostly just hungry.

He and Kono polished off their shave ices in less than a half hour, Warlock still had to drink the last of his. They didn’t have good flavours like black current but his blue raspberry lemonade shave ice was a pretty good substitute,  and it turned his tongue blue . 

His stomach let him know it was very displeased about the long surfing session. Especially the distinct lack of carbs following it. Frances, however, taught Warlock to be polite “ _ so you don’t insult your fellow humans _ ” and Nanny taught him to be polite “ _ so they don’t see it coming _ ” so Warlock didn’t say anything to Kono. 

Warlock frowned at the man coming towards them: it was the guy that ran into him earlier! Warlock was very good at names, Nanny helped him with that after Warlock got in trouble for forgetting one of Thaddeus’ friend’s names. At his 7th birthday. Chin smiled at them and greeted Kono by name. It was all very suspicious. 

“Warlock! Its good to see you again.” Chin said with an easy smile, “I didn’t realize that my cousin Kono was going to be your instructor until after you two were already paired up.”

“Where’s Crowley?” Warlock asked.

“Well it turns out that my friend Steve and your friend Crowley know each other from a few years back. We went to see Steve and they lost track of time. Crowley’s a bit tied up right now so he asked me to check on you, and bring you to him after we get some lunch.” Warlock eyed him suspiciously. 

“_If you think you’re going to be kidnapped, Lockie, you have two options.”_ the Dowling Head of Security was always so dower. And convinced that a nickname was the way to make friends with children, _“Option 1, which I don’t recommend, is to go along with the bad guys. You’re a good judge of character, Locky, so if you _think_ they won’t hurt you or that you can get away do that. This is especially true if they are covering their faces. You can’t identify them if you can’t see their faces._

“_Option 2, which is ever so slightly more likely to save your life, is to scream and kick and bite and run away into a crowded area. Find a mother and tell her you are lost. Look scared and if you can manage it cry a little bit. Don’t go with the kidnappers to a second location, Lockie._” Every year before every vacation Warlock got the same lecture from the same Ex-ARF employed by the Dowling estate. 

There had already been 3 kidnapping attempts, Warlock was not looking forward to a fourth. 

But he is hungry.

“What’s for lunch?” he asked, his voice high with an innocence Nanny schooled into him as soon as he could talk. Warlock had seen how adults responded to innocent children often enough. He may only be 12 but he was smart. Nanny and Francis made sure of that. Warlock would simply have to eat the food and figure things out from there. 

“I know a place on the boardwalk, you can see it from here.” Chin pointed to a stand with a shortish line, “want to join us, Cuz?”

"Sure thing cuz." Kono took Warlock's hand and led him towards the vendor.


	11. Aziraphale worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex's pronouns are they/them. If I called them 'he' at all in this please let me know and I /will/ fix it.

Aziraphale hummed as he sipped his carry-way tea. He felt slightly guilty about contributing to pollution every time he bought one (especially when Brian was around. That boy could glare) but rationalized it by explaining to himself and Brian that as an angel he can absolutely destroy the damnable cup. And midnight trains were always so draining.

It was past 2 am when Aziraphale finally left the Underground at Oxford Circus and he desperately needed a tea to calm his frazzled nerves. Normally Crowley was around to drive Aziraphale into the city when he wanted to go but, with the Hawaiian vacation and all, Aziraphale, by necessity, began to use the public transport system much more.

There was miraculously little in the way of delays or upsets but he could do nothing about the noise and congestion inherent in such methods of travel. One would think that a midnight train heading into the capital would be quieter than those heading back out but so far Aziraphale had observed the opposite. Still a nice cup of tea did wonders to sooth frazzled nerves.

Aziraphale pulled out his shop keys. He didn’t, strictly speaking, need them but over the years he developed little rituals of domesticity and order. They helped him keep a low profile in Soho. One such ritual was the use of his key, he even updated the lock a few times. He had yet to convince Crowley to use his spare though. The demon much preferred to just turn the knob and expect the door to open.

Aziraphale stopped in the shadows a few feet from the stoop of his shop. There was somebody sitting on the top step.

* * *

"Really it's fine, dear," Aziraphale said as he ushered the youth into his shop. The youth was known to Aziraphale as Alex, though Aziraphale suspected that was not the name their parents gave them. Alex didn’t speak of their parents to Aziraphale. Instead they, like many youths who wandered into the bookshop took comfort from the angel whom they saw as an ‘elder gay’. Though that label didn’t really fit the angel he had no objections to it and thus didn’t ever attempt to explain how neither a sexual nor gender binary really worked for his species.

Alex was clearly out of sorts anyway. That sort of conversation would take far too much effort this particular night.

“Are you sure, Mr. Fell, I don’t want to be a burden.” Alex keeps their eyes downward as Aziraphale puttered around flicking on lights and kicking the old rad into overdrive.

“No, no, Alex, you are not a burden and anyone who makes you feel like one will have to answer to that one day. Sit, there, I’ll just be a moment, midnight visits normally require tea I find.” Aziraphale didn’t want to leave Alex on their own. He had long since discovered that beings in distress had a tendency to disappear if left to their own devices for too long. Instead he rushed to the back and snapped a miracle tea set onto his silver platter and miracled the kettle to boil much quicker while still maintaining safety.

When he got back to the front of the shop with the tray he sighed to see Alex where Aziraphale left them wrapped in the woollen throw that customarily graced the back of Crowley’s favourite window seat – the only one in the shop clean enough for the sun to penetrate it. After checking how Alex liked tea Aziraphale served and invited the youth to take as many jammy biscuits as desired. Aziraphale, himself already full of tea from his walk, poured himself a small mug and nibbled on a biscuit. Who was he to say no to a treat? And besides, it would help put Alex at ease.

“Now then, my dear, would you like to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Alex muttered into their tea cup.

“Alright then, shall we discuss something else, perhaps? Or simply relax in the company we keep?”

Alex shrugged.

Aziraphale sat in quiet contemplation. He knew that sometimes the youths that ended up on his doorstep needed time to sort out their thoughts in a safe place before they could vocalize them. Aziraphale certainly understood that!

He wondered what Crowley was up to? The demon and their godchild could get into terrible trouble without Aziraphale there to temper their enthusiasm. Still, Aziraphale had no desire to visit Hawaii. He visited once for a miracle many, many years ago and, as lovely as the islands were, he knew when he was unwelcomed by the local deities.

It was beside the point anyway: Alex needed him now. Once this was all settled he resolved to call Crowley and check in.

“It’s just... stupid.” Alex said. They groaned and wrapped the blanket tightly around their shoulders.

“I very much doubt that.”

“My sister’s birthday was yesterday and she wouldn’t take my call.”

“Oh, I'm sorry that happened. It can be very difficult.”

“How do you manage it Mr. Fell?”

“Well,” Aziraphale thought out loud, “I suppose I developed a family of my own. It took me a while – quite a while – and there were some dreadfully lonely times but now I have two godchildren, a young man and woman whom I think of as if they were my siblings’ children, and a number of vibrant young people to keep me on my toes.”

“And Mr. Crowley.”

“Yes, I suppose Mr. Crowley counts too.” Aziraphale nodded and sipped his tea. It was odd putting a label on something that was more than six thousand years old and predated any modern definition of relationship but there was no way to deny that Crowley and Aziraphale were family. Loving, devoted family. It was not lost on Aziraphale that he and Crowley built their family together, beginning with Warlock and adding Adam and the Them after the Apocalypse. Adam brought Anathema and Newt into it by sheer force of will. Aziraphale and Crowley could hardly say no to their godchild after all!

Aziraphale could see that Alex wanted into his odd family unit as well. But, as much as Aziraphale wanted the youth to be happy and cared for, he knew that would not work. Not yet anyway. An event like an apocalypse bound beings together after all.

“How long does it take?”

“Everyone is different, child, sometimes it felt like it took me thousands of years to find one.” Aziraphale smiled softly, “and it takes work. Mr. Crowley and I did not begin as friends, after all. Our family – well it was a little bit like Romeo and Juliet to begin with. Not that either of our people cared enough to pay attention!

“Look at me getting carried away. The point is, Alex, familial relationships take hard work on both sides. No matter how hard you try to reconnect with your sister, if she isn’t willing to work as well it will never happen.” Aziraphale frowned as Alex’s eyes spilled over. “No matter what your sister or your parents think, though, you are worthy of love.” He gently filled his words with belief and strength. There was nothing in heaven or earth that would convince Aziraphale that his creator had anything at all against the queer community.

After that their conversation petered out naturally. Alex dried their eyes, drank their tea, and nibbled on a few biscuits before gently hugging the angel and making their way back out into the London night. Aziraphale worried a bit about Alex’s trip back to their flat share but Alex assured the angel they would be cautious. Only after Alex disappeared around a corner did Aziraphale leave his vigil at the window.

Determined now more than ever to call and check up on Crowley and Warlock, Aziraphale strove purposefully to the back room.

“I didn’t leave that there.” He said as he caught sight of the ansafone machine for the first time, “Oh dear, what has that demon gotten into this time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am mad at myself right now: This has been in my notes for like 4 chapters and I still haven't found a way to work it into the story yet. So you lot have it and if you work it into a story let me know!  
-  
At some point Danny says, “This coming from the guy in snakeskin boots”  
and Crowley says, “Or maybe they just look like Snake Skin boots.”


	12. His Mind Wandered Deeper into Worry and Doubt

“We never told you the year.” Steve said letting a hint of triumph into his voice, matched only by his razor's edge smile.

“Do you really think that matters?” Crowley asked as he settled himself into his seat. His left hand, still free of it’s cuff, rested casually on his lap as he lounged back. Danny bet that he’d be up on two chair legs if all four weren’t bolted to the floor. The picture of relaxation if not innocent.

“He’s right, Steve.”

“What are you talking about Danno?”

“Well think about it. In order to get a licence you have to be at least 16, right?”

“Right.”

“And to be able to rent a car in this state you have to be 21-22, right?”

“21, what’s your point?”

Danny sighed, Steve was being intentionally obtuse now, “So in order for AJ, here, to be our joy rider from ‘73 he’d have to be at least 68 now.”

“He could be 68.”

“I assure you, Steven, I’m not 68.”

“And, what, we’re just supposed to believe you, AJ?”

“Believe whatever you like, I’m not 68.” Crowley’s grin could only be described as shit eating, “Now then, about getting me back to Warlock, if you’d be so kind.”

Instead Danny began their questions again. The act of repetition meant that any lies Crowley told would be easier to spot. Lies are not like memories and so they are harder to recall on demand. A few changes were expected but nothing major – everything that happened on a Tuesday will always have happened on a Tuesday - but maybe the conversation happened in a slightly different order. Lies, however, always went one of two ways: exactly the same word-for-word story or massively different with shifting dates and individuals involved. Danny switched up the order of his questions in the hope of tripping Crowley up.

Crowley’s story didn’t shift any more than Danny expected from an honest man. He was in Hawaii to make up for missing Warlock’s birthday; he called a friend in Soho to check up on said birthday child; he was not 68. Interestingly he wouldn’t give an actual age. The answers he gave were “six thousand, twenty-four” or “Not 68” or “it’s not polite to ask a lady her age.” which was a bit suspicious. But not a lot. It was mostly annoying and annoyingly consistent with the police reports Five-0 found. 

“Really, Steven, this is getting a bit much don’t you think?” Crowley asked when the commander growled out his disbelief in Crowley’s retirement yet again, “What would I possibly want with this island? I have one of my own that I like quite a bit more.”

“It’s not the island we’re worried about.” Danny said. Sometimes – not always but sometimes – it was a good idea to show a few of your cards to your opponent. It could trick them into revealing more of their own.

“If that’s not what this is about... then?” Crowley’s brow furrowed in confusion before he shifted forward in his chair. The leg that hand been casually crossed over it’s partner slammed to the floor and his left arm braced on his knee, “Warlock. You think I’ll do something to Warlock. Kidnap him maybe.” He watched Danny’s reaction carefully, “No that’s not it either. Ransom? No – well yes but not entirely.

“Oh you think I’ll use my position with Warlock to influence Thaddeus.” Crowley said ‘influence’ with enough scorn to strip paint and ‘Thaddeus’ with even more.

“What do you know, he is smart.” Steve called to Danny from where he lounged on the wall by the door.

“You’re not.” Crowley countered without humour, “What possible reason would I have to influence a buffoon like that?”

* * *

Crowley didn’t have infinite patience.

There were those who said he had no patience to speak of but that wasn’t true either. Crowley liked a bit of chaos in his life and it was hard to orchestrate true chaos if you didn’t have the patience to wait for things to fall into place. So Crowley was patient but not infinitely. Steve and ‘Danno’ were beginning to wear on him.

Crowley had plans for his short time in Hawaii. None of this would have happened if he had been Nanny Ashtoreth. Steve and his marry band of malcontents didn’t know that Nanny Ashtoreth was an aspect of Crowley’s self after all. But it had happened and so Crowley went along with it. He didn’t want to cause a scene after all.

Sure he misunderstood the precise type of scene Chin, Danny, and Chin’s cousin were threatening but that was neither here nor there.

Crowley answered Danny’s questions (for the third time) by rote while his mind wandered deeper into worry and doubt. Where was Aziraphale anyway? The angel should have gotten Crowley’s message by now. He’d left it well over an hour ago. Aziraphale should have called Crowley’s mobile with an update but it was silent. Crowley doubted Steve would let him answer a call but just seeing Aziraphale’s number would be enough to calm the demon’s nerves.

But he hadn’t called.

And Warlock was on his own.

With strangers in a strange city with absolutely no one Crowley would consider an ally near by. Yesterday Crowley might have considered Steve an ally but that was clearly not the case. Why had Chin been so insistent on separating Crowley from his young charge? Where was Chin anyway?

“Warlock. You think I’ll do something to Warlock. Kidnap him maybe.” Crowley did something ineffable with his eyes again to carefully watch Danny’s reaction. The detective didn’t trust Crowley, but Crowley already knew that. His aura or soul or whatever shuttered and shimmered in Crowley’s vision telling the demon he was close to the mark, but not exactly correct. “No that’s not it either. Ransom? No – well yes but not entirely.

“Oh you think I’ll use my position with Warlock to influence Thaddeus.” Crowley said ‘influence’ with enough scorn to strip paint and ‘Thaddeus’ with even more. Even if he still worked for Down There Thaddeus was only considered useful as a father to the antichrist. He had no inherent worth of his own. Beyond that, Crowley wasn’t the type of demon to whisper in the ears of the powerful. He much preferred the mob. There was an honesty in the mob that didn't exist with people like Thaddeus Dowling. 

“What do you know, he is smart.” Steve called to Danny from where he lounged on the wall by the door.

“You’re not.” Crowley grumbled as he did something ineffable to his eyes, resetting his vision to normal. “What possible reason would I have to influence a buffoon like that?”

Crowley’s mobile rang.


	13. Come Straight to our Hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The phone number is like that because it is a real area code so I don't want to accidentally put a real phone number in this fic.  
The flight is a real flight (17 hours, 15 minutes) but I rounded up the price by a bit.

“I didn’t leave that there.” Aziraphale said, “Oh dear, what has that demon gotten into this time?” He fretted as he pulled his coat off and hung it up. There was nothing he could do for Crowley immediately anyway so taking off his coat seemed like the right course of action. Crowley had shown Aziraphale how to work an ansafone years ago but the angel was a little out of practice. It was a sturdy device with a physical tape and thus harder to accidentally delete. Three small buttons on the side were fairly straight forward: two triangles pointing away from the machine “backwards”; one triangle facing forwards as well as two parallel vertical lines “Start/Stop”; and two triangles pointing forward “advance”. Simple enough.

“_Angel, I’ve gotten into a spot of bother over here. Nothing I can’t handle but can you check on Warlock? Don’t-don’t bother with the teeth_.”

Oh that blasted demon! How on earth did he expect Aziraphale to be able to check on Warlock? It would take considerably more than a minor miracle to get to Hawaii. By the time Aziraphale managed it, Crowley would likely have everything sorted. Briefly Aziraphale contemplated the possibility that this was a ploy by Warlock and Crowley to get Brother Francis to join them.

Except Crowley specifically told him to leave Frances behind, “_don’t bother with the teeth_” indeed. In his frustration Aziraphale banished the ansafone and jabbed at the old rotary phone that really shouldn’t work anymore. He put in the first four digits for Crowley’s cell before sighing and hanging up. The rolodex on the phone table had Anathema and Newts new number in it somewhere.

“There we go!” Aziraphale said “0-1-8-6-5-x-x-x, Newt and Anathema.”

“Aziraphale?” Anathema’s voice was groggy and thick with sleep, “Its nearly three o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh heavens I’m sorry Anathema I forgot myself.” Aziraphale’s fingers fluttered with anxiety. He still wasn’t used to human cycles. As an ethereal being he never really bothered with sleep. Upon the formation of his family 12 years ago (though it really picked up in the previous 12 months) Aziraphale realized that 6000 years was not enough to truly understand humans. “Shall I call back in the morning?”

“No,” Anathema said with a clearer voice, “no I’m awake now.”

“Right. Well, Crowley seems to have gotten into a spot of bother in the colonies and I am not sure how to book a flight out there.”

“The colonies? Oh, right Adam mentioned a trip to Hawaii.” Anathema groaned. Aziraphale assumed she was getting out of bed. She was actually untangling herself from Newt’s octopus arms where they drifted off on the couch after a _Who do you think you are?_ Marathon. Newt slept like the dead. Anathema wasn’t worried about waking him. “Lets see here. You’d have to go from Heathrow, do you know where in Hawaii they are?”

“Honolulu unless things have gone really off the rails.”

“Right. Heathrow to Honolulu. Its going to be at least 17 hours travel. Can’t you just, I don’t know, fly over there? I saw your wings.”

“Ah yes, that is a common misconception. If I still had access to heaven I could pop up there and take a short cut, or if I were incorporeal – that is to say discorporated – it would be easy to fly, as you put it, but these corporations were not designed for flight the wings could not support my full weight for more than a hop across the street.”

Anathema made a thoughtful sound, “Is that why Crowley drives everywhere?”

“Yes dear, what did you think that was about?”

“I figured he just liked driving.”

“Now about that flight?” Aziraphale said.

“Right. I can get you an 17 hour trip, one way, with a stop over in Vancouver, Canada.” Anathema gasped, “Its 2280.00 pounds.”

“You needn’t worry about the money, my dear,” Aziraphale said. He carefully picked up the phone cradle and walked over to his shop desk. In the antique till, next to a silver denarius, quite miraculously, lay Crowley’s platinum Barclaycard. He pinched the phone between his cheek and shoulder to grab it and hurried back to the phone table.

He and Anathema spent a few more minutes sorting everything out before Anathema offered to book him an Uber. After she explained what an Uber was Aziraphale decided to call a cab himself instead. He had never run into issues with black cabs after all. Why test his luck with this new Uber thing when there was nothing wrong with the cabs. And besides it sounded like he’d need one of those blasted ‘smart-mobiles’ to use the service regularly. He already found Crowley’s _Candy Crush_ game distracting enough, thanks all the same.

He wanted to make another call before he had to leave so Aziraphale wished Anathema a good evening and helped her find her way back to sleep.

* * *

“Ah, Harriet, so happy to have caught you. This is Aziraphale, Crowley’s friend.” Aziraphale mostly wanted to put Brother Frances behind him. Unlike Nanny Ashtoreth, the gardening monk had only ever been a character that Aziraphale put on as an actor might a mask at the Dionysia. He was proud of his performance but felt that nearly 11 years was long enough. As a result the only Dowling that suspected that Aziraphale was more than he let on was young Warlock.

“Aziraphale, lovely to hear from you. Warlock and Crowley are out for the day I’m afraid.” Harriet said. She was as welcoming as eve. Out of the two elder Dowlings Harriet made a much better politician, she knew how to interact with people on their level, not like her husband who tended towards loud and brash much more than subtle and thoughtful. Warlock took after his mum.

“Yes about that. Crowley called me a little while ago – I don’t know exactly when, the machine doesn’t tell me the time but I received the message at 2:45am Greenwich Mean Time. Now I haven’t tried calling him myself but I believe he was picked up by the authorities.” There were few things that Crowley classified as a “_spot of bother_” and Aziraphale doubted the demon had been trampled on by an elephant.

“By the police?”

“Yes that is likely. Crowley’s family can be obstinate and that often leads to trouble for the poor man.” Harriet made a sound of sympathy. “I’m about to get on a plane myself but it won’t arrive until 10 tomorrow morning for you. He told me Warlock is fine but would you mind terribly looking into Crowley’s situation. I dread to think what the Americans would do to him.”

Aziraphale leaned into his real worry for the demon to exaggerate his concerns. He knew there was little the Americans could do without Crowley consenting to it, but knew that Harriet worried about the being she saw as her son’s genderqueer role model. When Warlock first made contact after they moved to America Crowley dithered about explaining how he was Nanny Ashtoreth for almost an entire day. It was actually Aziraphale who explained how people like Crowley and Alex and Aziraphale himself were once again being accepted by wider society – which he knew from those youths who thought of him as an ‘elder gay’ - that calmed the demon in the end. Harriet accepted Crowley’s explanation easily enough, Thaddeus took a bit more time to come around but he did when it became obvious how happy Crowley made Warlock. But societal acceptance was slow and there were new reports of hate crimes almost daily. Harriet worried.

Aziraphale also knew that Harriet loved Warlock enough to search for the child without Aziraphale’s intervention.

He did not envy the people between Harriet and her cherished ones.

“Yes of course. When you get here come straight to our hotel. Hopefully I’ll have this all sorted by then and the four of us can have breakfast. If not you and I will work together.”

“That sounds like a lovely idea Harriet. Now I really must go, have to get to Heathrow.”

He disconnected the line, pulled on his coat, and dialed a familiar number.


	14. Where is My Nanny!

Warlock was most of the way through his order of shrimp poke when he noticed the security guards making their way towards the surf school. So far Chin and Kono hadn’t really tried to keep Warlock anywhere. The child chose their picnic area, he ordered his own food (different from Kono’s or Chin’s and he ordered last), he even tricked Kono into eating some of his. Or more accurate, he thought he tricked Kono but she saw through his ploy. They hadn’t made him do anything he didn’t want to do – Chin even suggested they stay close to the surf school in case Crowley headed straight back there instead of texting Chin first like they planned before Chin ran into them by the shave ice stand.

If it weren’t for Warlock’s history of kidnapping he would feel quite safe with these two cousins. Instead he felt wary. An emotion that most people said he was too young for but Nanny and Brother Francis agreed was quite practical.

Time crawled forward, however, and soon his poke would be gone and something would happen. The chances of it being a good thing were slim. So it was a relieved Warlock that raised his fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill shepherd’s whistle. Brother Francis taught Warlock to do that when he was seven. Security quickly took advantage of the child’s new ability with a promise to come running if they heard it.

Warlock only tested them a few times before Francis sat him down and explained why he shouldn’t do that. Warlock hadn’t whistled like that for a whole four months (last time someone tried to kidnap him from a school trip to the museum). Sometimes he worried a bit about forgetting how to actually do it but so far it was an unfounded worry.

Strangers grumbled about the noise but, just like sheepdogs, the security team perked up and came trotting to find their wayward lamb. Warlock grinned. It really was comforting to see familiar faces. The only two faces it would be better to see were Crowley’s or Warlock’s mum. Crowley’s friend Aziraphale was on par with the security guards.

“Hi Dave!” Warlock said as Dave Smith, head of Dowling Security, and his team got to their table. Dave glanced at Warlock but most of his attention was trained on Kono and Chin.

“Hello Lockie,” Dave said, “who are your new friends?” He smiled easily enough for the child but his voice was hard. Any wrong move would result in a fight.

“That’s Kono, she taught me how to surf, and that’s Chin, her cousin. I think they did something to Nanny and I would like to go find him now please.” His grin fell off his face when Dave didn’t react the right way. That is to say with a matching grin. Instead Dave looked a bit grim like Warlock’s mum did when something went wrong. “Where is my nanny?” Warlock asked.

Growing up Warlock never ‘burned hot’, as Brother Francis said, his anger didn’t boil over with screaming and stamping and crying. Instead he got cold. A chill ran through his arms making his fingers twitch. He grit his teeth and hissed instead of shouting. Nanny proudly claimed that as her influence. Francis always said it was Harriet’s temper.

Ultimately the origin of Warlock’s temper didn’t really matter. What mattered was that Dave recognized the signs.

“Lockie,” he said, “Calm down. Your mother is working on getting him back right now. And we,” He indicated the four guards and Warlock with a gesture, “are going to meet up with your mother so you can yell at Crowley just as soon as we find him.”

“Excuse me, Dave was it?” Chin said, “I’m going to need some ID before I let Warlock leave with you.”

“And what gives you that right?”

“The state of Hawaii.” Chin and Kono pulled out their badges.

“Cool!” Warlock grabbed Chin’s before remembering that he was supposed to be angry. At 12 years old Warlock was easily distracted by shiny things like police badges and cool rocks so he carefully examined the badge, just like Dave did with Kono’s.

“Why do you have a badge, Kono?”

“Well, I’m not really a surf instructor.”

“Wait.” Warlock stopped her with a raised hand, “Surf instructor sounds like a job you need to be licensed for.”

“Yep! I have my license and I’ve spent a few seasons teaching as well – you weren’t my first student – but I work for Five-0 now.”

“Oh, okay.” Warlock traced the lettering on Chin’s badge. He couldn’t imagine going from a surfer to a cop. Grownups were weird though.

“Maybe you can explain why Mrs. Dowling received a frantic call about Crowley being arrested?” Dave motioned to Kathy, another security guard, who gathered Warlock up. He scarfed down the last of his poke and took Kathy’s hand. He stuffed his feet into sandals and only grumbled a little about getting sand in his shoes.

“It must have been after I left. The only person Crowley called when I was there was someone in the UK called ‘Angel’.” Chin said with a shrug as he and Kono got up from their table.

“Who?”

“Aziraphale!” Warlock said with a joyful hop, “Crowley calls Aziraphale ‘Angel’. He called Aziraphale.” He clapped as best he could without dropping Kathy’s hand, “Is Aziraphale coming to Hawaii?”

“Your mum didn’t tell me if he was coming but that is who told us about this whole mess.” Kathy said quietly.

“You mean he actually called the UK?” Chin asked rhetorically. At least Warlock assumed it was rhetorical because nobody answered and Chin didn’t seem annoyed about it. Instead of answering Dave, Kono, and Chin took a few deliberate steps away from Warlock, Kathy, and the other two (Warlock was good at names but these two were hired locally by Thaddeus and Warlock had never been introduced to them). Kathy distracted him with questions about his surfing adventure.

Warlock happily chatted about his morning. The memory of it soured slightly with the realization that Kono was only there because they thought Crowley was dangerous or something.

As if a guy who cried at the end of Toy Story 3 could be dangerous.


	15. Do you know what Crowley is?

Crowley jumped just a little when his phone rang. He had never bothered to customize the ringtones on his phone so without, at the least, pulling it out and looking at the caller id he had no way of knowing who was on the line.  He happily noted that both Steve and Danny looked startled too.

“How is someone calling you? We don’t have cell service in this room!” Danny asked.

“I have a really good mobile plan.” 

“But – But that’s not possible.” Danny complained, “It just isn’t”

“Look, you can have your existential crisis if you want, in the meantime can I?” he gestured to his phone-containing pocket. He hoped desperately that it was Aziraphale calling to say everything was fine and he needn’t worry so much, really.

* * *

“Yeah, fine.” Danny said with a sigh to shake off the tension of a phone call penetrating the blockers set up on the interrogation room. They weren’t getting anywhere anyway. 

Crowley pulled the sleek, modern, expensive, and half useless phone from his pocket and frowned when Aziraphale’s face didn’t smile benignly back at him.  Slowly a grin broke out as Crowley recognized the number not yet added to his contacts.

Crowley locked eyes with Steve as he thumbed the answer button, “Hi Harriet lovely to hear from you, how are you?” He watched Danny and Steve’s faces shift quickly from confusion to dread, “Oh good, you found Warlock. Tell him hello for me please. 

“Yes, I managed to get a few good photos before this whole thing started and I’ll be sending them to you shortly.” His thumb carefully covered the microphone at the mouth piece and he mouthed ‘She was very concerned for Warlock’s safety this morning.’ with a mockingly fond smile, “Oh yes there are a few embarrassing ones I managed to get as well. You know what good fodder funny photos can be. 

“Look, Harriet love, there are some people questioning me and my right to look after Lockie, would you mind speaking to them for me?”

“Its for you,” he held out the phone on a limp wrist to his interrogators. Crowley’s grin was toothy and vindictive as if he were picturing Harriet Dowling eating Steve and Danny whole with tomato sauce.

* * *

Steve frowned. The tax payers of Hawaii spent good money (a lot of it too) to block as many signals to this interrogation room as they could. Even Five-0’s surveillance equipment had to be hardwired to the computers upstairs. Those particular computers were not connected to the internet at all to help prevent hacking. Occasionally Steve’s phone dropped time if he was in the interrogation room too long. And yet, there was Anthony fucking Crowley, happy as a lark, with a working cellphone.

Steve was going to have words with the IT guy. Loud words. Loud angry words.  For now he settled back not sure what to expect from this call but he bet it wasn’t anything good.  He listened closely to one side of Crowley’s conversation, largely filled with banalities as if the criminal were trying to convince Steve and Danny that he was familiar to and familiar with the Dowling family. 

‘She was very concerned for Warlock’s safety this morning’ Crowley stage whispered and winked at Steve and Danny. Steve felt rage bubbling up in his gut. He knew, he knew, that Crowley was bad news. That Crowley was the only danger in Warlock Dowling’s life that morning. And he knew that Crowley had Harriet Dowling wrapped around his fingers like a snake. 

“It’s for you,” Crowley said. Steve stomped forward and grabbed the phone from Crowley’s hand. He felt vindictively pleased when the criminal’s hand wrenched a bit and three of his joints cracked.

“Steve McGarrett, Hawaii Five-0, ma’am” He said down the line.

“_Mr. McGarrett a friend tells me you arrested Mr. Crowley this morning._” Harriet’s voice, made tiny by the phone, is strong, steady, with just a hint of anger. Steve never interacted with the diplomat’s wife but her voice fit the descriptions he’d read.

“Yes ma’am.”

Harriet hummed down the line, “_Tell me, Mr. McGarrett, what did Anthony do that made you believe he is a criminal?_” Steve grit his teeth because he knew, he knew, that Crowley was bad news he just couldn’t prove it. Especially not in a way that would convince someone already enthralled by the snake.

“Do you know what Crowley is?”

“_Do I know what Crowley is? What sort of bigoted, prejudiced, transphobic question is that?_” Harriet’s voice didn’t raise, she wasn’t yelling, all the same Steve couldn’t help but think of his CO’s screaming face at her tone, “_Is that the sort of state’s task force in Hawaii? The bigoted, prejudice brutal kind? I will be having words with the governor about your treatment of Crowley. If he has so much as a bruise I will have more than your badge._”

“No ma’am, I am not preju-”

“_Of course you aren’t, Mr. McGarrott._” Harriet’s tone was not sincere and Crowley’s grin said he knew exactly what Harriet thought of Steve and quite possibly agreed with her assessment. “_I am on my way into the palace now and I expect you to release Anthony in the next five minutes or my lawyer will be the next person in through your front door._”

“Yes Ma’am, we’ll be up in a moment to discuss this further.” Steve said grudgingly. He knew almost as soon as Crowley said her name that this would be the end of the conversation. Steve knew, Danny knew, and Crowley knew that nothing that happened today would hold up in court. ‘Kidnapping’ Crowley from the beach, not notifying the relevant British offices, the car crash in ‘73. Not a single thing would get Crowley thrown in jail – and more than one of them would threaten Five-0’s careers.

Steve didn’t really have a choice.

Crowley accepted his phone back, listened for a moment and said, “Thanks Harriet, ta.” before carefully tucking it back into his pocket.

“Thank you for speaking to us Crowley. You are free to go.” Steve said through gritted teeth. He unlocked the cuff on Crowley’s right hand. “Just one question: how come Mrs. Dowling thought I was a transphobe?”

“Oh that’s on you, Steven.” Crowley stretched out his right wrist and rubbed it gently with his left hand, “You didn’t ask if she knew about my sordid history with the London Underground. You asked her if she knew ‘what I am’.” With that Crowley levered himself to his feet and slinked after Danny out of the blue room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 1-2 chapters left darling readers. 
> 
> You might be surprised to hear this but I always planned this out in a vaguely this-way fashion. In the original version of this story (which ended shortly after chapter 5) Crowley called Harriet, not Aziraphale from the pizza parlour.


	16. Epilogue

Crowley stretched out his joints as he followed Danny down the hall, into the elevator, and into a much brighter hall. He felt more than heard his hips crack and knees pop. Crowley was man-shaped but his true corporation was snake-shaped. He wasn’t meant to sit in one position for very long. Nothing could be worse than riding horses but sitting in a hard chair chained by the wrist for hours was a close second. He could practically feel Steve glaring at the back of his head.   
Crowley cracked his neck.   
He could hear Harriet arguing with someone soft spoken, their voices getting clearer as the trio rounded a corner into what had to be some ridiculously high-tech office space. Far too much glass and about three times the number of screens as a normal person needed. Crowley loved it. It was almost enough to distract him from the tiny child charging at him.  
“Nanny!” Warlock shouted as he bowled into Crowley’s hip, nearly knocking the demon over in his enthusiasm.  
“Hello Warlock,” Crowley said.

* * *

Steve frowned at the soft look on Crowley’s face.   
“Where did you go, Nanny?” the boy asked.  
Something filtered to the surface of Steve’s thoughts: Crowley was the nanny. No matter what the reports said about the Dowling’s nanny being a woman, it was clearly Crowley. “Oh,” Steve whispered involuntarily, “That’s why she thought I was a bigot.”

* * *

“Come on Warlock. We have an appointment to keep!” Crowley held out his hand for Warlock to take. The child beamed at him and grabbed it tightly.  
“Anthony!” Harriet called from her spot by Chin, his cousin, and the Dowling security force. Crowley guided Warlock toward that group. He didn’t miss how Warlock smiled shyly at the cousin.   
“Harriet, lovely to see you, shame about the circumstances.” Crowley kissed her cheeks in greeting. Chin, instead, got a soft hiss and a glare hidden by dark glasses.   
“This is Kono, she taught me to surf.” Warlock said enthusiastically and dragged Crowley away from his mother to meet the cousin. Crowley and Harriet exchanged fond if exasperated looks before Crowley coolly greeted Kono. Quickly Crowley again tried to escape with Warlock to get them to the nail parlour on time. Again Harriet called him back.  
“Dave is going to accompany you for the rest of the day. He’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”   
Crowley looked the head of security up and down twice. He was strong – not built like a bodybuilder nor even a strong man but there was something about him that spoke of physical strength. “Alright but he shall have to be sworn to secrecy.” Crowley declared. Warlock giggled.  
Dave agreed that so long as he didn’t think it was a threat to the family he would keep their afternoon plans to himself and the three set out. Warlock, much to the embarrassment of his mother, stuck his tongue out at Chin on their way. Crowley hadn’t yet let go of the child’s hand.

* * *

“Samantha, hello.” Harriet greeted the concierge by name. She learned it upon arrival and used it every time they spoke.  
“Mrs. Dowling, how are you today?” Samantha tried her best to ignore the three bodyguards hovering by the comfortable chairs.   
“I’m well, thank you and yourself?”  
“Fine, thanks. What can I help you with?”  
“Well, I am looking for a gift for a friend. She’s a bit of a foodie and I want to avoid the tourist-y glitz, you know?”   
“Yes, ma’am. Well have you thought about some Kona coffee?”  
“She’s not much of a coffee drinker unfortunately.”   
Samantha hummed, “What about something like a cookbook? The Poke Cookbook by Martha Cheng might be an interesting gift. We don’t have it in the giftshop but I know that Mermaid’s Bookstore down by the theatre carries her books.”  
“Oh that sounds wonderful! Thank you Samantha.” Mrs. Dowling said relieved.

* * *

Aziraphale sighed as he exited the taxi outside of a very tall, bright, modern hotel with door men. Though Aziraphale avoided staying at hotels he believed this one might meet his comfort requirements quite nicely. It helped that the Dowlings already had rooms there. He sighed again upon entering the cool air conditioned lobby. Aziraphale was not built for hot, muggy climates. Or rather he was, but spending the last millennia in the UK made him unused to hot, muggy climates.   
Aziraphale nodded his thanks to the young man who opened the door and walked purposefully to the concierge. “Good morning, my dear, I am here to meet the Dowling family. Harriet gave me the name of the hotel but neglected to tell me where they are taking breakfast.”  
The young woman eyed his reddening nose and pale suit with quickly hidden disdain. Aziraphale ignored her. He was used to such looks in London and knew his hastily miracled linen suit was not up to his usual standard – only two pieces.   
“One moment sir,” she said as she picked up a phone. Aziraphale fiddled with the hem of his converted linen jacket. He wasn’t worried, per say, but he hadn’t spoken to Harried since before his flight so he did not know if Crowley had been returned yet.   
“What’s your name, sir?” the concierge asked.  
“Oh, yes. Ah, Aziraphale.”  
She turned back to her conversation on the phone for a moment.   
“The Dowlings are taking breakfast in the rooftop cafe and would love for you to join them. The elevator is just over there and the roof top is clearly marked.”  
“Thank you dear,” the angel said with a graceful smile. He took a few steps toward the lift before pausing, and doubling back to the hotel gift shop.   
A moment later he made his way to the lifts and ascended.

* * *

“Aziraphale,” Crowley greeted with a smile, “Harriet didn’t say you were coming!” Crowley rose gracelessly from his chair to assist Aziraphale into his own.   
Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand, “What is this?” his nails, normally well groomed, were painted alternating dark, rich purple and mate black. Warlock, not one to be left out, thrust his hands under Aziraphale’s nose, his fingers were a medley of colours: red, orange, yellow, green, light blue, dark blue, purple, white, black, and brown.  
“Why, they look lovely,” Aziraphale said. He settled into his seat and pulled the floppy hat he purchased in the gift shop securely over his ears.   
“Why are you wearing that silly hat, Aziraphale?” Warlock asked. Aziraphale flushed and rubbed his reddened nose.  
“This bright sun doesn’t agree with me, young master Warlock.”   
They supped in the bright morning light enjoying each other’s company. Shortly before Harriet and Warlock had to leave to join Thaddeus Aziraphale sat back in his chair sipping a lovely, cool, fruity drink and said, “This has been an excellent epilogue to a rather trying few days.”   
He and Crowley collected hugs from Warlock and made their way to the airport where there was, miraculously, an open seat next to Crowley on his flight back to London.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus: The original end from back when this ended in Chapter 5:  
[Crowley escapes after Steve spoke to Harriet on the phone by jumping over the high back of the booth instead of waiting for Chin to stand up and let him pass]
> 
> “Wait, Crowley, Wait. And he’s gone.” Steve tried to climb over an indignant Danny to go after the snake. Steve sighed and settled back down into his seat, “that could have gone better.”
> 
> “You know, call me a skeptic but that guy didn’t seem like the kind of guy to be a British secret agent or a criminal mastermind.” 
> 
> “Good, isn’t he? He’s played both sides for a very long time. And if Chin and Kono’s research is correct, its a family gig going right back to WWI.” Steve said.
> 
> “What did Mrs. Dowling say?” Chin asked.
> 
> “She said that Crowley has been in Warlock’s life for his entire life. That the man has her complete trust, and that I am a bigot.” 
> 
> Danny hummed, “A bigot. You don’t get that one very often.”


End file.
